I'll look after you
by supersnuffy
Summary: What if Torchwood didn't escape the Master's grasp? What if, instead of getting sent to the Himalayas, the Master wants some new toys? Janto one-shot.


**Disclaimer: Sad as it is, I do not own any of the characters shown in this story, they all belong to the brilliant minds of the BBC.**

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Jack couldn t stand this much longer.  
"Please, let me go!" He could hear the female welsh vowels, ripped from the mouth of his friend. He had his eyes closed, but he could still see the horrendous image in front of him.  
The Master loved to play with his food.  
It made Jack feel sick.  
He wanted to shout out to Gwen, but she wouldn't have heard him, and if she did, he would just be remembered with anger for leaving them. "Gwen." He whispered. "Gwen!" Why did he want to torture him so? He tugged at the chains again, half heartedly, the harsh jangle of them echoing through the cavern, now quiet. He didn t look up when he heard the body get dragged away, the laughs of the guards at Jacks' tears.  
"Aww. The little immortal's crying - bless him." the guards laughed in a disgustingly sarcastic way. What he wouldn t do to get his hands around their necks kill them for killing his friends.  
The only thing he looked forward to now was the poison ridden meals, the quiet solitude of death slowly taking over h-  
Then it ripped him back again. Gasping and in pain.  
He heard more struggling from somebody else and he could hear the chains locking. He looked up to see who had joined him in his boiling sweaty prison.  
Ianto. Sweet, Innocent Ianto.  
Not that innocent in bed, mind you.

Ianto almost growled at the guards locking him up and then he saw Jack looking at him. He saw the pain in his eyes, the hurt flooding his handsome features.  
Ianto couldn t speak. He opened his mouth to say something, words of comfort, anything, but he had nothing to say, anger suddenly twisting in his chest.  
"You left us." He rasped, tears filling his eyes.  
That wasn't what he wanted to say.

"You left us..." The words echoed in Jacks' mind.  
He did. He didn't mean for this to happen. He didn't mean for the hurt, the pain he had caused them.  
"Ianto I-"

"You left us Jack. You left us to deal with it on our own. And now look what's happened!"

"Ianto, list-"

"No, Jack, you listen to me!" the welsh voice rasped out, a cough wracking his now frail looking body. "I saw them dragging Gwen's body. /dragging/. This might not have happened if you stayed."

"It could be WORSE if I stayed!" Jack shouted at him, straining against the chains, to push Ianto, to-  
To hug him. To hold him close, the warmth of another body, to kiss him.  
"Ianto..." Jack whispered again, looking down at the metal grated floor.

Ianto suddenly fell silent. The anger fell from him, to be replaced by an overwhelming sense of sadness, just at Jack saying his name.  
He started crying softly, snuffling in the dark.  
"Why us, Jack? Bloody Torchwood, why us? This is what Tosh meant. Who protects us? Who protected her when she died?" Jack listened to Ianto, hanging on his every word as if just the sound of his voice was keeping him alive. The malice had left his voice though, all that was left were the empty and halfhearted rant.  
"Keep talking Ianto. Please. Say something."  
"...Like what?"

Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Now he had Ianto, he wouldn t let go. No matter what it took.  
"I'll protect you, Ianto. Like I should have protected Tosh, and Gwen, and Owen. I should have protected them. I should have...I should.." his voice was reduced to a whisper.  
The clanking of the pipes took over.  
"Ooh, we have a little audience now!" The Master waltzed in. "I hope you like the show, Welsh boy."

Ianto glared at the Master. If looks could kill, he would have used up all of his regenerations by now.  
The Master grinned at Jack, who was looking at him with the same hatred. "So, what'll it be today? I think you can have a choice, for once. We might even be able to call it suicide that way!" He laughed with sick joy, dancing around Jack, excited about this new take on the whole 'kill Jack for fun' game.  
Jack stared through him, not saying anything.  
"Oh, don't you want to choose? Well, that IS a shame, isn't it?" The Master drew a knife from his pocket, examining it and grinning, stepping behind Jack and leaning over him. "This MIGHT just hurt a teensy-weensy bit. Well, no. It's gonna bloody kill!" He drew the knife over Jacks throat, cutting through the thick cartilage of his windpipe.  
Jack gagged, feeling the blood flood down his neck. He could vaguely hear screams of fright, coming from Ianto, shouting his name.  
Then it all went dark. The softness but harshness of it, the blackness, the solitude, the absolute quiet.  
It was too quiet. Too silent. Too black. It hurt his eyes.  
He was jolted awake, screaming, screaming from pain, from the harshness of reality, the sudden sharpness of everything before him. He blinked the dots from his eyes, sweat dribbling down his cheek.

"Jack. Jack." Ianto breathed, sighing in relief, tears running down his face. He knew Jack could come back, but it still hurt, seeing him die like that, seeing the sudden relief in his eyes when he dropped, and the fear when he returned.  
"I'm still here, Jack. I always will be." His voice broke when he said it, at the relief in Jacks eyes. He suddenly seemed like a child, needing somebody to look after him. "I'll look after you, Jack."

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**Yeah, a little midnight oneshot there. Hope you liked it. c:**


End file.
